Hurts Like Heaven
by riophoenix
Summary: Sometimes lions fall in love with snakes. That's okay. / Multichapter. Drarry. Adult themes.
1. Chapter 1: Visualities

Draco Malfoy stumbled out of bed and grimaced at his own reflection in the mirror. Scowling, he made his way to the bathroom, tearing off his clothes as he went, and got into the shower.

This was the _third day _in the week he had dreamed about Harry Potter in...well, _unusual_ ways. He didn't understand why, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something. It always made him feel uncomfortable when he woke in the morning, like he was listening in on a secret conversation that he wasn't suppose to know about.

Draco felt the blistering water creep down his bare skin, and hoped it would wash away the unwelcomed dreams. It didn't, of course. No matter how many times he scrubbed and scrubbed, Draco remembered them clear as day.

He sighed heavily and turned off the water.

He wanted to hit something. He wasn't pure angry; he was confused, which led to anger and frustration. It was perplexing; he didn't apprehend it. Draco didn't have feelings for Potter, or any other_ man _for that matter. The dreams just sort of happened.

He ran his fingers through his hair and dried himself off as best he could with a towel.

He wasn't following. Draco hadn't seen Potter in months, let alone talked to him. Plus, he was ninety-nine percent sure they were still enemies. That didn't make any sense.

But Draco felt different. That feeling -that_ awful, hateful _feeling he use to get when he though about Harry Potter had vanished, replaced by indifferentness.

_Bloody hell, what is _wrong_ with me?_ Draco thought nauseatingly as he dressed himself. He was most certain he was going mental, or maybe worse, though he didn't have any clue what worse could be.

Draco grumbled to himself as he made his way to the door inattentively, and almost tripped over his cat. Muttering even louder and already having a terrible start to the day, he clamored down the rigid steps of the flat and into the frozen bitterness of the morning. He blundered behind the building and, once clear of all Muggles, Disapparated.

As soon as the uncomfortable tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach lessened, the blond found himself exactly where he wanted to be: directly outside the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. He entered.

The small pub was noisy, as usual, with impatient customers waiting to be served, and the sweet aroma of butterbeer clung to the air. Draco reluctantly requested a bottle of firewhiskey.

"A little early in the morning to be drinking this stuff, eh?" the waitress joked.

Draco cracked a smile and seated himself at a bar stool. "Never too early."

The waitress neutrally smiled back and placed the bottle on the counter in front of him, then turned to assist more of her antsy customers. Draco sipped the firewhiskey slowly, thinking to himself as he did so, and glancing around the tavern.

A glimpse of red hair caught his attention suddenly. Draco craned his neck.

It couldn't be.

No - no, it _was_.

_Dammit, _Draco cursed in his mind, as an exhausted looking Potter came into view, accompanied by Weasley and Granger.

"Well,_ this _is the _last_ thing I need," he muttered to himself, watching the trio shrewdly, who did not appear to have noticed him yet.

Draco downed the rest of the firewhiskey. He adjusted the collar of his trench coat and started toward the exit, keen to keep himself hidden.

He felt the chill air snap at his face as he stepped outside, and he glanced over his shoulder once more.

Draco wasn't sure what he expected to see, so he didn't know why he was somewhat disappointed when he turned away, disregarded yet again.

Flushed, the blond Disapparated once more, back to his apartment room in Bristol.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've been working on this for a while and finally feel comfortable enough to post it. There will be more Drarry interaction later. I've got three chapters done which are longer than this one but I'm not going to post them until I get some reviews (constructive criticism included). **


	2. Chapter 2: Square One

Draco appeared in the empty apartment room seconds later.

Only. . . it wasn't so empty.

Blaise Zabini , Draco's best mate, sat casually on the sofa in the middle of the room. Draco almost yelped and whipped out his wand until he realized who it was.

"Blaise!" he said angrily. "What the _hell _are you _doing _here?"

"Waiting for you to get back," Blaise said simply, and shrugged his shoulders.

Draco knit his eyebrows together. "Wha- how did you get in?"

"Honestly," Blaise waved his hands around like angry birds. "How did you even _get in _to Hogwarts? Am I a wizard or _aren't I_?"

"All right, all right, whatever," Draco raised his arms in defeat. "Now, seriously, what do you want?"

"Wow," Blaise raised his eyebrows. "_Someone _got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Draco glared at him.

"_Well_!" Blaise exclaimed when Draco didn't say anything. "Last time I checked I was allowed to visit my best friend that I haven't seen in months. Or have you declared a_ law _against that or something? If you don't want me here, I'll just be going-"

"Blaise-" Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just not in the mood now. Stay - let's catch up."

The latter smiled with satisfaction. "Now, that's more like it. So - what's bugging you, mate?"

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Frankly, I'm not an imbecile. I can tell something's up. Now what is it?"

_Make-something-up-make-something-up-make-something-up, _Draco chanted in his head, running his mind for a believable lie.

"I- uh, I'm just tired, is all," he said lamely.

"Well - if you don't trust me. . ." Blaise buttoned his lips and glanced around with a smug look on his face.

"Stop making me feel all guilty!" Draco half yelled, and half chuckled at his friend's way of compelling.

Blaise grinned. "But seriously, mate. What's up? What's bothering you?"

Draco shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "I just. . . I dunno, I've been having dreams. . ." he said vaguely.

"About?" Blaise asked, eager.

"It's nothing, really. I mean - well, it _is_ something, of course, but I'd rather keep it to myself. For now," said Draco firmly.

Blaise looked disappointed, but he nodded. "All right, if it's_ that _personal. Well, we should go somewhere tonight. Get your mind off it, y'know?"

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "Sounds nice."

"Cool," Blaise nodded. "Three Broomsticks at ten?"

"I was just there."

"Wouldn't hurt to go again, mate. 'Sides, it's always _crazier_ at night - if you know what I mean. See you then," Blaise said, and with one last mischievous grin, Disapparated.

"See you then," Draco mimicked, mumbling to himself, even though his friend had already gone.

* * *

><p>The blond stoodgawkily in front of his bedroom mirror, repeatedly looking himself up and down. He wore a simple striped button down shirt with a tie around his neck and trousers which had faded at the knees.<p>

Draco swallowed. He hadn't socialized with really anyone in a long time; he usually just shut himself up in this dinky flat, isolated himself from both the Muggle world and magical world. Draco didn't know why he did that, but he liked it, so that was the way he ran things in his life. He wasn't sure how tonight would go, but he _did_ want to get his mind off of Potter, and Blaise sure thought it would help.

A knock on the door interrupted Draco's thoughts. Hesitantly, he opened the door to his bedroom and ran to answer it.

Blaise, dressed similarly to Draco, stepped inside.

"All right, mate?" Blaise greeted him, and trotted into the living room. "Let's get going, shall we?"

"All right, calm down, you just got here" Draco said somewhat sarcastically, pulled on a jacket, and grabbed hold of the latter's arm. Almost instantaneously, everything went black, and Draco felt the familiar jerk behind his naval. The two appeared moments later on the hard pavement in Hogsmeade. A gust of wind flurried in the air and they hurried inside through the glass doors.

The Three Broomsticks was a riot; stage lights flashed all around the bar, and some odd wizard band that Draco couldn't place blared from a stereo. People conversed loudly and drunkenly over the music. He figured the evenings were for adults only and such.

Draco had never been here at night, but what he saw was what he expected - a noisy, rowdy, crowded room that he felt out of place in.

The friends made their way to a booth, where Blaise bought some sort of red drink that Draco had never heard of before.

The two talked, completing their session of "catching up" that they never finished in Draco's apartment. Blaise successfully caught the attention of various girls, disappeared several after that happened, and came back some thirty minutes later, which was how most of the evening went.

Draco was surprised to find Pansy Parkison and Goyle together. He was even more surprised to be told that Goyle, who had always been a dumb git back in school, was employed in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the Ministry of Magic. He was even _more _surprised to find out the two were engaged. He found the thought almost amusing. Heck_, _it _was _amusing.

But it also made Draco somewhat jealous. Not of Pansy, but of the fact that everyone seemed to have a partner and all he had was. . . well, nothing.

_Let's tell the truth, _Draco thought. _I live in a flat by myself and the only thing that keeps me company is my cat who has a tendency to trip me. I have an upsetting life._

He didn't like it, but it _was _the cold, raw truth.

Draco rested his head in his hands, thoughts wandering, until he almost dozed off, despite all the ruckus. He yawned. His watch told him that it was almost midnight.

Draco rose from his stool. He figured he'd leave without Blaise and someone else would take him home, or maybe he'd be able to find his way home himself, but Draco sincerly doubted that. He began to walk toward the exit, gazing at his feet as he did so.

And suddenly, _THWAM!_

The blond almost fell, dazed, as something sticky and cold seeped down his shirt. For a moment he saw stars, and mumbled something like, "I'm sorry," though when he gained his vision back, he was staring into the face of the person he least expected and least _wanted_ to see.

Harry Potter, once again attended by his two mates.

_Don't they ever go anywhere alone_, Draco thought briefly, but then realized it was a bloody stupid thought considering the circumstances.

"Oh - Malfoy - I mean - Draco -" Harry stuttered, clearly dumbfounded. "I - uh, sorry, that was my fault," he finished awkwardly.

Draco looked down at his shirt, now soiled with a clear liquid that smelled suspiciously like Red Currant Rum, and then at Harry, who'd visibly aged. His hair was sticking up all over , though Draco could tell it was probably neatly cut when groomed properly. His neck was stubbly and his jawbone looked close-grained.

"S'okay," he said, and cleared his throat. "Wasn't paying attention." Draco had no idea where the politeness was coming from, though he decided Harry was acting mature because they were _adults _now and that was the appropriate thing to do.

"No, really, I - blimey, sorry," Harry said again, noticing his spilled alcohol and Draco's ruined shirt.

"You're fine, I was just lea-"

"Well - let's have a drink," Harry insisted, holding up his empty glass. "Converse, y'know?"

_Say no, _Draco told himself firmly. _Say no, Malfoy. Say no!_

"Sure," Draco said considerately.

Odd as it was, he felt drawn to Harry. And he didn't like it.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, like, _what the bloody hell is this about? I thought we hated him? _and Harry motioned them off. They went, holding hands and wearing confused expressions.

Slow jazz music played from the stereos as the two gawky pair made themselves over to the the barstools at the counter, and both simply ordered firewhiskey. Draco pulled out his wallet, but Harry shook his head.

"Nah - it's on me," he said candidly.

Draco began to protest, but Harry cut in again. "Come on, honestly! I just spilled a drink on you. I don't mind buying you one to make up for it."

The blond wanted to argue, but he reluctantly put away his wallet. "That's very civil."

The waitress set down their glasses, and Harry clutched his, sipping it slowly.

"So," he said in between sips. "How've things been?"

Draco glanced around the room. "Fine, I suppose. And you?"

"Ah," Harry said. "The same."

"Work?" Draco asked.

"Auror office. Don't like it much but I can't get afford to go unemployed. How about you? Where're you at?" Harry wondered.

"Control of Magical Creatures," Draco answered truthfully. "For now, anyways."

"Huh," Harry said, amused. "I've never pictured you in that department for some odd reason."

Draco laughed, and most of the awkwardness between the two melted away. They made good-humored small talk, as if they had been doing it for years - the weather, Quidditch, salary, Kingsley - the Minister of Magic, etc. The only topic they avoided was the obvious one, _how's your family been, _ because neither of them could exactly answer it. Draco wasn't in contact with his parents, which wasn't hard to realize after the whole war thing, and Harry, well, didn't _have_ any family.

Draco cleared his throat again, and asked what he had been itching to. "You're still with Weasley - Ginny - I suppose?"

"No," Harry said simply, and shrugged. "Didn't work out between us. Too. . . complicated, of course. You probably know how she likes to blow things out of proportion."

"Like what?" Draco asked, trying not to sound eager, though he didn't know why he even was.

"Everything," Harry laughed halfheartedly. Draco grinned.

"And you?" Harry asked, picking up his glass and setting it down again. "Still with Pansy?"

"_Ha_," Draco cracked. "Nope. I'm perfectly single. But get this - she's _engaged _to Goyle."

Harry nearly spilled his drink again. "_Honestly_?"

Draco nodded, laughing.

"Bloody hell," Harry said, grinning shaking his head in awe.

"I hate to interrupt," a voice said earnestly.

The two turned to see Hermione Granger standing stiffly in front of them.

"But, it's nearly 1:30," she said, laughing slightly. "I think both of you'd better get home."

"Ah, right," Draco said, standing.

"Where does the time go?" Harry said aloud, also rising from his seat and draining the last of his firewhiskey.

"Right - well, I'll see you around, mate," Draco said ineptly, though he was pretty certain a conversation like that would never happen again.

"See you," Harry assured, and followed Hermione out the glass doors. Draco watched until he was out of sight completely.

Something inside the blond fluttered, and with one last look around the bar, he Disapparted with a loud crack.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was kind of long, sorry about that. I think I know where the plot is going. . . it's still kind of forming in my mind though. So I dunno. I like the non-enemy Draco and Harry. :3  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Percussion

_What a night_, Harry Potter thought as his head collided with a pillow rather hardly. _A strange, bizarre, oddly enjoyable night._

He fingered with the small buttons on his polo for some time, his eyes involuntarily closing, until he realized he was still in formal clothes. Harry groaned, and dragged himself out of bed, where he stood at the foot of it, tearing several layers of shirts over his head, making his hair stand even more on end, if that was possible. He undid his belt and pulled off his trousers until he was standing - shivering - in just boxers. He then crawled back beneath the covers, wrapping them around himself tightly as if it would protect him.

His mind wandered to the events of the night, his eyes shut slowly, the wind whistled outside, and the Boy Who Lived became still.

* * *

><p>It was a cold morning.<p>

Of course, Harry wouldn't know, because he was still lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, hungover and tired from the previous night.

He glanced at his Muggle cellphone on the counter that read _11:04 am. _He wasn't particularly sure why he kept the thing, but it was convenient at times, and Hermione insisted they all get one in case of emergencies, though Harry wasn't even sure Ron knew how to use his.

He grinned at the image of Ron shouting in frustration, trying to figure out how his phone worked, but the amusing scenario was quickly interrupted by a pounding pain in his head, though it clearly wasn't coming from his scar.

He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and silently promising himself he'd never go to another bar again, as the consequences weren't exactly anyone's idea of fun.

Harry grumbled and sat up, scratching his head, weighing his options. He could lay in his bed and be unproductive all Saturday or he could get up and accomplish some much needed Christmas shopping.

Finally, after a long session of indecisive thoughts, Harry staggered lazily to his bathroom where he showered away all traces of sweat and alcohol from the night before, and dressed himself once more in a casual jeans and sweatshirt. Once outside of his flat, in the frozen early atmosphere, Harry Disapparated.

There was a light snowfall in Diagon Alley, which was crowded with busy witches and wizards anxious to get away from the cold and into the warmth of the stores that lined the streets. It wasn't unusual, really, considering it was the holidays.

Harry shuddered, calculating the number of people he needed to buy a gift for - something sentimental for Ron and Hermione and whatever else for the rest of the Weasleys, just as he did every year. He figured getting Ginny anything special was out of the question, seeing as how they'd broken up months ago and were barely even on talking terms.

A bell chimed and a burst of warm air engulfed him as Harry entered Flourish & Blotts; it was the nearest to him, and he knew Hermione couldn't have read _all_ the books in the store yet. . . Or perhaps she had, but he highly doubted that.

Harry browsed. _Confronting the Faceless, Enchantment in Baking, Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions, Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, One Thousand Magical Herbs_, all of which Harry knew his best friend had already devoured front to back. He even considered _Charm Your Own Cheese_ by Gerda Catchlove, and although he was positive Hermione had never picked it up, it was still the silliest thing he had ever seen.

Harry exhaled, figuring he'd check out Obscurus Books down the street, when an all too familiar voice said, "Harry Potter - it's quite fancy meeting you here."

He turned around only to see Draco Malfoy yet again, a black blazer buttoned halfway up his chest and his hair groomed neatly and perfectly. He wore somewhat of a smirk on his face, as if he didn't really _want_ to say hello but he didn't exactly _not _want to either.

Not exactly certain of what went down at the bar, or whether they were still enemies, Harry uttered out a sentence that he wasn't sure was even understandable, "Oh - yeah - hi - Malfoy - er - Draco. . ."

Draco's smirk seemed to jag deeper into his face. "Holiday shopping, I reckon?" he said, an attempt to make a lukewarm conversation.

"Yeah," Harry said. He glanced around at the book store and shoved his hands into the tattered pockets of his sweatshirt.

Draco looked at him for a moment and blinked. "I see," he said archly. "Now, the proper thing to do, _Potter_, is to ask me the same question, but clearly-"

"Fine, _Malfoy_," Harry said, unsure if the latter was being sarcastic or not. "What _are_ you doing here?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't see why it matters."

Harry, dumbfounded, could tell his face was screwed up in a confused expression.

The blond grinned puckishly and took a slow step closer to Harry, who was suddenly conscious of himself and especially glad that he had showered, though he pushed the feeling aside.

"Well," Draco started. "I suppose it would be a descent thing for me to let you get on with your errands."

"I'm not in a hurry," Harry said, though he didn't know where the statement came from.

"I see," the latter repeated. " Then I guess I should - ah - invite you for a drink?"

_Um, _Harry thought to himself.

"I - no offense, but why?" Harry wondered.

Draco merely shrugged his shoulders again. "I was thinking the same thing about you last night."

"Touche," Harry said in defeat. "But I'll have a drink with you, only because it's - ah, what was the term you used yesterday? Civil?"

"Yeah," Draco said, ignoring the smug look Harry now wore on his face. "Indeed."

* * *

><p>The two men sat across from one another in a cafe, Draco skimming a Daily Prophet and Harry sipping hot tea (he'd had enough firewhiskey and rum for a lifetime).<p>

They were not talking, though it wasn't as awkward as it would appear to be to anyone who had known the complete hate Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter bestowed upon each other in school.

Well, okay, it was _sort of _awkward, but whatever.

There weren't many people in the cafe. Soft music played from a speaker somewhere in the ceiling and the air smelled of butterbeer and cherry syrup. Harry thought of how pleasant and cozy the small joint was as he watched snow flurry outside. He drummed his fingers on the table.

Draco looked up from the paper. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Tapping your fingers. It's agitating."

"Ah," Harry gave sort of a half grin. "Welcome back, old Malfoy attitude. Long time, no see."

Draco glared at him and looked down at the paper once more. It was quite and calm in the cafe, but Harry decided it was much more fun to see the blond annoyed. He tapped his fingers.

Harry smiled at the sight of Draco's death stare. "Oops," he said teasingly.

"_Honestly_," Draco said dangerously. "You're _immature_, Potter."

"Nah," Harry said. "Seeing you annoyed just gives me a laugh." And so he thumped his fingers once more with determination.

Draco exhaled and set down the paper, leaning across the table. He clobbered his hand over Harry's to keep him from tapping, and whispered, "Would. You. _Stop_?"

Harry swallowed, as the blond's face was inches away from him and he could feel each word on his skin, making him uncomfortable. For a moment they sat there, until Draco cleared his throat and sat back down. Harry didn't move his fingers.

"Well," Draco said, adjusting his collar. "I'd better - er - get going. I've got. . . _stuff _to do. See you around," - he hesitated - "Harry."


	4. Chapter 4: Uncertainty

Draco tried to shrug off everything he was feeling as he walked down the alley, ocassi0nally swerving to avoid strangers since he was so deep in thought.

He realized how incredibly confusing things were between him and Harry at the moment and it made him feel all out of whack, like he was losing something that was really important, though he didn't know what it was.

But they had too much history, after all. Draco didn't know - surprise there, what _was _he certain of these days? - if they could be accquantances, let alone friends, and if everyone else could live it down.

Truth be told, for some reason, he liked the stupid conversations with Harry over the past two days even though he couldn't even remember half the things they talked about. They acted, not mature or even _civil_, but oblivious, and it was strange. It was strange how someone can take a handful of memories and twist them and pull them until they don't mean anything anymore.

"Malfoy?" a voice said, and Draco looked up to see that he'd almost collided with Hermione Granger, whose hands were filled with books, most of them which she had somehow dropped on the ground.

"What?" he asked, watching her pick up her things. She scowled as she stood back up and brushed off her knees with one hand, the other holding the stack of books, which were now caked with snow. Her cheeks were rosy red from the cold and she looked like she were about to have a heart-attack.

"I-" she started reluctantley, as if she knew what she wanted to say but she wasn't sure if she should say it or not. "What's going on between you and Harry? You were acting like old friends last night and I saw you talking in the cafe a few minutes ago. Why? What's going on?" she said frantically without stopping to take a breath.

"Nothing's going on," Draco scoffed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Honestly? Do you think I'm _stupid_?" Hermione said scornfully, and Draco almost laughed outloud. Anyone who went to school with Hermione knew that, though she was Muggle born, she was _not _stupid, nor had she ever acted like it in her whole life.

"No," he said slowly, not wanting to set anything off that was unecessary. "I'm just telling the truth."

"I can sense a lie with my _eyes closed_, Malfoy."

"It's quite funny, actually. By now I would've thought we could be on first name basis," Draco said sarcastically, attempting to change the subject.

"Fine. . . Draco," she gulped and closed her eyes as if saying his name made her sick. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes I did."

"You didn't answer it truthfully!" Hermione yelped angrily, and when the blond didn't say anything, she went on. "Don't you think that's kind of risky? Being friends with him? It's like crossing lines and opening doors that shouldn't be crossed or opened," she finished with an anxious look on her face.

"No," Draco said, knitting his eyebrows. "I don't know. I'm not afraid to take risks, but it isn't like that. We talk like we know what's going on, but we don't. We don't know anything. And I guess the only real thing we can offer each other here is forgiveness. He seems to be fine with that. I don't know exactly why _I'm _okay with it, but I am, and that's that."

"Oh," Hermione glanced around nervously. She seemed at a loss of what to say. "I mean - that's - well, when you put it _that _way it doesn't sound so bad. I just - look, I don't know what's gotten into_ both _of you, but I'm - I don't know. I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

"You don't have to do anything," Draco said stiffly. "Because this isn't even about you."

She looked taken aback for a moment, but then she sighed, and Draco could tell that if she wasn't carrying a million and one books she would've raised her hands in defeat. "Fine. Fine, but just. . . be careful. He doesn't need anything else to worry about losing. Not that _you'd_ know, of course. And if you're joking around with this, I swear I'll - I'll - you don't want to_ know _what I'll do."

"I'm not joking," Draco shrugged. "About anything. Besides, I'd never wanna face _your_ wrath, Hermione."

The corners of her mouth twitched, and, unable to help it, formed into a smile. "You keep that in mind," she said and gained a firm grip on her stack of books once more which were slipping from her hands. "Well, take care, Draco Malfoy. If I suspect anything fishy, you _will _be hearing from me," she said, and with a nod of her head, started down the alley once more, leaving an uneasy blond in her wake.

* * *

><p>Hermione saw a figure which was obviously Ron in the distance - whom she'd left at The Apothecary, a random store which he liked to go in to check out things, though Hermione found it thoroughly boring - and rushed to catch up to him.<p>

"Were you just chatting with _Malfoy_?" her fiance asked in a surprised and somewhat disgusted tone when she reached him.

"Yes," she panted as they walked along the street. "I was."

Ron glanced sideways at her. "Why?"

"I was asking about Harry. You know, I saw them in some cafe after I left The Apothecary. When I went to go find you again I saw Malfoy and so I just had to say_ something_."

"Ah," Ron said, suddenly more interested. "So? What's going on?"

"I- well, he didn't say much. I guess both of them are willing to - er - put the past behind them."

"That's odd," Ron scratched his chin impassively.

"I dunno, Ron. Maybe Harry's just lonely. We're engaged, Ginny's seeing someone else, and everyone has just taken up arms in the revolution of relationships! He needs a friend."

"_We're_ his friends," Ron said defensively.

"It's _different_ now! Do you really expect Harry to be as comfortable and open around us as he was before? _Wipe that look off your face. _You know I'm right! He probably feels like he's annoying us all the time or like we want to be alone and don't care about him anymore."

"But that's not true," Ron said.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "_I _know that, Ron, but does he? Now help me carry these books; their getting heavy."


	5. Author's Note

**Readers,**

**I know I haven't updated in a really long time - sorry about that. I'm actually writing a fiction story right now and that's why I haven't had time to update. But I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this particular story. I'll probably be posting some oneshots soon (not necessarily HP) but at least you'll know I'm not dead.**

**Until then,**

**Mollie.**


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